


Dragonsearch

by Edonohana



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Action/Adventure, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Gen, Hatching, Hurt/Comfort, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edonohana/pseuds/Edonohana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrim and Path encounter unexpected dangers while on Search for girls to Impress green dragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragonsearch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xylaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylaria/gifts).



Mirrim drifted from sleep to waking, slowly becoming aware of being comfortably curled up against Path’s warm body, her face pressed into Path’s soft hide, inhaling Path’s natural spicy scent and the rich odor of… oil! She had fallen asleep in the middle of oiling her dragon.

“I’m so sorry!” Mirrim sprang to her feet. Her fire lizards, startled and dislodged, took to the air, chirping and chittering.

She snatched up the cloth and applied it to Path’s side. The thought of that beautiful leaf-green hide getting dry, flaking, maybe even cracking in _between_ … Mirrim shuddered.

 _You were tired_ , said Path.

“It’s completely inexcusable.”

 _You were_ very _tired_. Path nuzzled her.

Reppa and Lok settled back down on Mirrim’s shoulders, and Tolly perched on Path’s back.

Path cocked her head. _Relth and Virianth are back from their Search. Relth found three candidates, and Virianth found two_.

“Are any of them girls?”

_One. Virianth’s, for the queen egg._

Mirrim sighed. Two Turns after she had been pulled from the stands to Impress Path, not a single girl had stood as a candidate for any dragon other than the queen.

The men at Benden divided neatly into four groups: the ones who resented her and objected to her very existence as a woman who rode a fighting dragon, the ones who treated her exactly like a man and seemed vaguely startled every time they were reminded that she wasn’t one, the ones who treated her as if her uniqueness made her Benden’s special lucky charm, and the ones who treated her as she was: Mirrim, whom they’d known for years before she Impressed; Mirrim, the woman who rode the fastest, smartest, most agile, and most beautiful green dragon in Pern. Those last men were, unfortunately, the smallest group.

If there were more female green riders, they could stick together and stick up for each other.

If there were lots more, maybe they wouldn’t have to.

“I’ll be right back.”

Mirrim ran out, pursued by her fire lizards, and caught the riders dismounting. Their candidates looked thrilled and anxious in equal measure; the riders, once they spotted Mirrim, looked guilty.

“Take it up with Virianth,” said R’nor. “He chooses, not me.”

“If there'd been any suitable girls, I'd have taken them,” said T’gor.

Mirrim glared at them. “Did you go to that Hold Menolly suggested?”

The men shuffled their feet.

“It’s tiny,” said T’gor. “Completely unimportant. There’s surely no one worth Searching there.”

Mirrim glared again, in the hope of inspiring them to do better next time. Reppa squeaked loudly and indignantly, making T’gor jump. The men hastily busied themselves with escorting their candidates into the Weyr.

Mirrim returned to Path, and once more took up the oiling cloth. “Path, why did you choose me? Why not one of the boys?”

_I wanted you._

“If I hadn’t been there, would you have chosen one of the queen candidates?”

_I didn’t want any of the queen candidates. I wanted you._

The love and certainty that Path sent to Mirrim washed over her like a tide. It was a moment before Mirrim could speak. “Do you think you could find girl green rider candidates, if we went on Search?”

Path’s eyes whirled light blue, imagining. _I could try. Shall we try?_

Green dragons didn’t usually go on Search. Blues were supposed to be best at that, and then browns and bronzes. Then again, girls weren’t supposed to Impress fighting dragons. It seemed as if this was yet another thing that Mirrim would have to do herself, if she wanted it done right – or done at all.

That was, if she wasn’t too late already. Ramoth’s clutch was due to hatch in a week or so. But with Thread once again falling out of sequence, all the riders had been pressed to their utmost, and Searches had been postponed, re-scheduled, and postponed again.

Mirrim tried to recall the Search schedule. Depending on how Thread fell, R’nor and T’gor might be the last Search riders for this clutch. What a horrible thought that was! Mirrim felt sorry for the unhatched dragonets.

Mirrim gave Path a final swipe with the oilcloth, drew in a deep breath for courage, and went to find Lessa and F’lar.

  


The Weyrleaders received her proposal with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

“We do have a Search team going out today,” F’lar admitted. “But you and Path are needed here, in case we have more unexpected Threadfalls. You’re not needed on Search.”

Lessa eyed Mirrim dubiously. “And why should we go to special lengths to find girls to ride green dragons? The dragons obviously don't mind having male riders.”

“But that’s my point – what if some of them they do? What if I hadn’t been in the stands when Path had hatched? You saw her – she refused every other candidate. She would have gone _between_ and died!” Tears stung Mirrim’s eyes at the very thought.

Reassuringly, Path sent her, _You were there._

“Path refused the boys _because_ you were in the stands,” said Lessa crisply. “Dragons choose the best of all possible candidates. You were a possible candidate. Path just looked farther than most hatchlings do. If you hadn’t been there, someone else would have been the best one for her, and she would have chosen that person.”

“You don’t know that!” Mirrim shouted, then snapped her jaw shut, aghast. Yelling at the Weyrwoman!

Lessa’s anger struck her like a physical blow, and she staggered a step backwards. All three of her fire-lizards burrowed into her riding jacket and pressed themselves against her body.

Lessa eyed Mirrim’s newly lumpy torso. Her lips twitched in amusement, and Mirrim felt her anger lift.

Cautiously, Mirrim continued, “I checked the Records. There have been times when hatchlings refused all the candidates and went _between_. There was a blue from the clutch that hatched Ramoth’s mother Nemorth, and two greens and a bronze from clutches before that. There must have been more, but the Records don’t go any further back for Benden, and I haven’t seen the Records for other Weyrs.”

“I know,” said F’lar. “I’ve read those Records, too. Those were all from Hatchings with very small candidate groups. Some of them only had as many candidates as there were eggs. We’re in no danger of that.”

“But will they be the _best_ candidates?” Mirrim asked. “Not everyone who Impresses becomes a good rider. Look at Kylara. If she was the best choice out of all the candidates, I hate to think what the rest were like.”

Lessa looked at Mirrim thoughtfully. "It isn't that simple. Celina was part of that group, too. We presented her again at Ramoth's second clutch, and she Impressed Lamanth. And look what a responsible queen rider she's been! No. It wasn't that the other candidates were worse. For whatever reason, Prideth wanted Kylara."

But F’lar shook his head. “You mentioned Nemorth, Mirrim. I remember her rider, Jora. She was the most incompetent Weyrwoman I ever encountered. She was afraid of heights and rarely flew, and she didn’t stop Nemorth from gorging before a mating flight. Her last clutch only had eleven eggs. Maybe if there had been more candidates at Nemorth’s hatching, she would have liked someone else better than Jora.”

“But Mirrim isn’t asking to search for queen candidates…” Lessa’s eyes sparked mischievously. “I’ll consult Ramoth. After all, it’s her clutch, so it should be her decision.”

Mirrim waited, hoping, while Lessa listened to a voice only she could hear.

“Ramoth says, ‘For my clutch, only the best will do.’ Very well. You and Path may go.”

F’lar wagged a stern finger at her. “But don’t take this as a chance to visit all the Gathers and eat bubbly pies, Mirrim. Remember, a Search is a serious responsibility, and you need to take it seriously.”

“I would never –“ Mirrim began, shocked, then realized that she was being teased. “Thank you very much!” she exclaimed, and fled.

  


Mirrim double-checked checked her riding straps, her sacks of firestone, and her healing supplies. With Thread falling out of sequence, it wouldn’t do to be caught unprepared.

The other riders were already done with their own undoubtedly hasty and careless packing, and were standing around chatting. D’wer, the Search leader, leaned his lanky body against Trebeth’s haunch. The blue dragon’s eyes whirled purple with anticipation.

“Ready, Mirrim?” asked D’wer.

Mirrim scrambled on to Path and strapped herself in. Trebeth sent the dragons their coordinates, and the dragons transmitted them to their riders. On D’wer’s command, the dragons leaped into the air. Path was quickest to take flight, and first to emerge from the chill nothingness of _between_ into the sunlit air above Benden Hold.

The dragons banked downward and landed in the courtyard, and Lord Holder Toronas came out to greet them. He was quickly followed by a crowd of teenage boys and girls, running or mincing out, hopeful and eager. The riders began to move among them, chatting with seeming casualness.

Mirrim had never been good with small talk. _Path? Do you like any of them?_

Path’s reply was as uncertain as Mirrim felt. _I’m not sure. What am I looking for? Someone like you?_

Mirrim walked up to D’wer, who was standing with a knot of teenage boys. She considered them as they nervously babbled about how comfortable they were with heights and how much Thread didn’t scare them. She couldn’t imagine any of them as dragonriders. One by one, they fell silent under her gaze, and one by one they edged away and went to talk to another rider.

D’wer brushed his carelessly trimmed black hair out of his eyes and glanced at Mirrim. “What do you think of those boys?”

“I don’t think much of them, if they got scared away just looking at me,” Mirrim said tartly.

He chuckled. “There’s a good test. I should bring you every time. And you’re right. Trebeth says none of them will do.”

“What makes someone a good candidate?” Mirrim asked. “What makes one person Impress a brown dragon, and another Impress a green? Why are blue dragons the best at Searching? What are we looking for?”

“Well, first of all, Mirrim, _we’re_ not the ones doing the real work of Searching. Our dragons are.”

Annoyed, Mirrim snapped, “I’m asking for Path. It’s her first time, and she wants to do a good job.”

More seriously, D’wer said, “Not everyone has the ability to hear dragons. If they don't have it, they can't Impress. Any dragon can sense that, and weed out the ones who don't have a chance. Beyond that, think of what riders need to do. Bronze riders and queen riders will usually be wingleaders, and they could end up in charge of the entire Weyr. So they need to be strong leaders. You’re looking for people who are forceful, confident, intelligent, organized, and, ideally, likable.”

Thinking of Kylara, the least likable person Mirrim had ever met, Mirrim made a face.

“I said, ideally.” D’wer leaned back against Trebeth’s forearm. “Now, brown riders can lead a wing, but they can’t lead a Weyr. So you want people who are steady and dependable, but not over-ambitious. They have to take orders as well as give them.”

Mirrim nodded. That did describe most of the brown riders she knew. “And blue riders?”

“We’re the glue that keeps the wing together.” D’wer reached up, Trebeth leaned down, and he scratched the blue’s eye ridges. “We can't have riders at each other's throats. It's usually the blue riders who keep the peace, keep us all working together. A lot of us are good at seeing patterns: patterns in Threadfall, but also patterns in people. That’s why blue dragons are best on a Search. They see beneath the surface.”

 _I like blue dragons,_ said Path. _Maybe next mating flight…_

 _Oh, Path,_ Mirrim sent back, trying to keep her amusement off her face. _I don’t think D’wer would appreciate that. He'll do what his dragon wants, but I know he only likes men._

Loftily, Path replied, _I wasn’t thinking of Trebeth._

 _And not Relth, either,_ said Mirrim. _I can’t bear T’gor._

 _I would never!_ exclaimed Path. _I was thinking of Helith… Or Flavith… or Orianth…_

Forcing her attention back to D’wer, Mirrim heard him say, “…and that’s everything you need to know about finding green candidates.”

“Um…”

D’wer laughed. “I’m teasing you. I knew you and Path were talking. If you’re listening now… green dragons are the most agile and have the fastest reaction time. They can’t fight as long as blues or browns, but they do some of the most dangerous flying in a Fall. So green riders are daredevils. Fiery. Competitive. Driven. A bit headstrong. Also, they tend to be very precise, and they want everything to be exactly like they think it ought to be.”

He grinned at her. “Sound like anyone you know?”

 _Fearless_ , added Path. _Determined._

“There’s a reason for that,” continued D’wer. “If they take even a split second to second-guess themselves or their dragon, they might get killed. And they need that sense of precision and desire for perfection to survive going after Thread the way they do.”

He scratched his head, sending his hair into his eyes again. “I guess there’s not many women like that.”

Mirrim couldn’t believe that. “You mean there’s only me – in hundreds of years? I bet it’s just that no one’s looking for those sorts of girls. I bet if you looked, you’d find them.”

“Maybe so. But I don’t think we’ll find them here.”

He looked around the courtyard. Mirrim followed his gaze, and saw most of the teenagers trailing back to the Hold, disconsolate, a few in tears. Only three boys and a girl were still with the dragonriders, staring up at the dragons in awe. The girl's pale skin made a startling contrast to her elegantly arranged black hair and her huge dark eyes.

“Is the girl a queen candidate?” Mirrim asked, certain that she already knew the answer. She was tempted to run back and see if she could pry some fieriness out of the rejected girls.

D’wer nodded, then leaned in close to Mirrim and dropped his voice. “Trebeth doesn’t think they’ll Impress. Trouble is, Benden Hold gets Searched so often, all the likeliest ones have long since been taken.”

Then he spoke louder, so the other riders could hear. “One more stop at Bitra Hold, and then we’ll be heading back.”

“What about Red Rock Sea Hold?” Mirrim asked. “Menolly was there – you know how the Harpers are trying to visit the more isolated Holds – and she told me there was a girl there I should look at. She said it’s never been Searched.”

“We don’t have time,” D’wer began, then snapped his fingers. “I know. Mirrim, you go to Red Rock. It’s tiny, and you already know who you’re looking for. Pick her up, then meet us in Bitra. Do you know the coordinates?”

Mirrim nodded. “I’ve flown over Red Rock Bay.”

She strapped in, and Path took to the air. Three heartbeats of black _between_ , and then they were circling in unclouded mid-day skies. It took Mirrim a moment to spot the Hold carved into the cliff overlooking a rocky beach. The tossing seas below were speckled with little fishing boats. Red Rock Sea Hold was indeed unimpressive. But if Menolly thought she’d found a green rider candidate, it was at least worth running her by Path.

They landed on a thin strip of stone that any dragon larger or less agile would have found precarious or even impossible. Even Path shifted uncomfortably, pulling her wings in tight.

Holders ran out and stood gaping.

“I’ve come on Search from Benden Weyr,” declared Mirrim. “I’m looking for…” She hesitated, realizing that she had either never been told or had forgotten the girl’s name. “Dragonrider candidates,” she finished. “Between the ages of fifteen and twenty.”

The Holders scattered. After a while, boys and girls began coming out, staring at Path and Mirrim with wonder, awe, and fear.

 _Anyone seem promising?_ Mirrim asked. She hoped Path would find Menolly’s candidate before Mirrim had to chat with a crowd of nervous young Holders.

 _I’m not certain…_ , Path began. _Oh!_

A girl strode forward. She was about Mirrim's age, rawboned, plain, and very tall, with gray eyes and near-white hair in a braid that fell past her hips.

“I’m the one you’re looking for.” Her words were drawled and spaced out oddly, so it took Mirrim a moment after she spoke to understand her. “Name’s Lanner. Harper said you’d be coming.”

_Path?_

_Yes. She has power._

“You’ll have to pack,” Mirrim began, but Lanner shook her head.

“Things will be different in the Weyr. I know that. Everything new. No point taking old stuff. I’m ready now. Already said my good-byes.”

Mirrim wasn’t sure exactly what Path meant by “power,” but Lanner certainly had a powerful personality. Mirrim smiled to herself. Lanner was sure to Impress a green. Even if she was the only candidate Mirrim managed to find, she’d have at least one more woman in the fighting wings.

A well-dressed, middle-aged man walked up to Mirrim. “Greetings…” He blinked, looking from her to Path, then continued. “…Lady Greenrider. Welcome to our Hold. You honor us with your visit. I’m Lord Yalot. Will you come inside?”

Lanner sat down cross-legged on the stone ledge. Mirrim followed the Lord Holder inside. The Hold was cramped and dark, and the smell of seaweed and of raw, smoked, cooked, and dried fish wafted out from several corridors. He escorted her to what was clearly the best room in the Hold. It too was cramped and dark, but the furnishings were well-made, and it was spotlessly clean. Here the smell of fish was driven back by the bunches of dried herbs arranged in glazed vases.

A woman came in through a side corridor. She a Turn or two younger than Mirrim, wearing plain, practical clothing, with her black hair pulled back into a pair of tight braids. Like Lord Yalot, she had brown skin and large brown eyes.

“This is my Headwoman’s apprentice, Rolena,” said Lord Yalot. “She’ll arrange everything; she always does.”

Mirrim thanked Lord Yalot, and he left. Rolena snapped her fingers, and two younger girls came in, holding plates and a mug. The Headwoman’s apprentice seated Mirrim in a cushioned chair and placed a mug of steaming klah and two dishes of assorted dainties, one of sweets and one of savories, on a small table by her side.

“What do your fire lizards eat?” Rolena asked.

“Raw meat, but you needn’t –“

“Three small bowls of raw meat, Suli.”

One of the girls immediately headed off down a corridor.

“Now, tell me how you’d like me to arrange your Search,” said Rolena, absently removing an errant speck of dust from a chair. “Does your dragon need to be present? If so, I can have all of this taken out to where she is. If not, you can stay here. I’ve sent runners to fetch all the boys and girls of the ages you requested who are willing to go and can be spared. Would you prefer them to come in order of age, or all at once, or –“

Mirrim held up her hand. “The question is, can _you_ be spared?”

Rolena paused in the act of straightening a doily. “What do you mean?”

“You’re more like me than anyone I’ve ever met, and I Impressed a fighting dragon. I’m here on Search. Would you like to come to Benden Weyr, and stand as a candidate for a green dragon?”

Rolena’s mouth fell open. Finally, she said, “Me? But… I never…The Harper said a dragonrider would come, but…”

“I know. You’re not the one I came for. But I think you’ve got just as good a chance. It’s a very different life, but –“

“I’ll come!” Rolena said hastily. “I could run this Hold in my sleep, but the Headwoman is only forty, and she won’t step down for years and years. And I want to see more of the world than sea and rocks and fish. We don’t even have a Harper, and I love music. We had a wonderful woman Harper visit us a while back, but she only stayed a few days.”

“I know. She sent me here.” Mirrim smiled. “You’ll enjoy the Harpers at the Weyr.”

The girl came in with three bowls of meat on a tray, and Reppa, Lok, and Tolly ravenously fell to.

“Greedy guts,” remarked Mirrim. Lok made a rude sound, and gulped down a chunk of meat nearly the size of her head.

“How _do_ you want to do the rest of the Search?” Rolena asked.

 _Path?_ sent Mirrim. _Shall I bring everyone outside?_

Her dragon sent her a wave of excitement and delight. _I found another one! Come back out and see!_

“Back outside, I suppose,” said Mirrim. “You’d better go pack – no, on second thought, don’t bring anything. Path found another candidate, and she won’t be able to carry any more weight. You can fetch your things later.”

Looking slightly dazed, Rolena escorted Mirrim back out to the ledge. Lanner was still sitting where Mirrim had left her, but other boys and girls had already started to come out to stare. A stocky boy, brown-skinned and brown-eyed like Rolena, was stroking Path's bent head.

 _Him_ , said Path.

“He’s a boy,” Mirrim blurted out, aloud.

“…Yes?” said the boy. “My name’s Jacin. Your dragon is beautiful.”

Mirrim immediately warmed to him. “She is, isn’t she? Would you like to Impress a green dragon?”

Jacin gulped. He looked from Path to Mirrim, then back to Path. His eyes brightened with tears, and he said huskily, “I’d like that more than anything in the world.”

_Path, is there anyone else here that you think we should take to the Hatching?_

Mirrim hoped not. It was going to be hard enough on Path to carry four, and if she found one more person, they’d have to come back for him or her. But Path indicated that she wasn’t interested in anyone else, so Mirrim dismissed the rest.

Lord Yalot returned, and Mirrim thanked him for his hospitality and told him who her candidates were. He seemed vaguely puzzled over Lanner, proud over Jacin, and dismayed to lose Rolena.

“Suli will do excellent work when she’s older,” Rolena assured him.

“Please come back if you don’t Impress,” Lord Yalot urged her.

“She’ll Impress,” Mirrim said.

She helped strap her three candidates in, and warned them about _between_. Lanner nodded, cool as a glass of Benden white. Rolena triple-checked the buckles. Jacin whistled to her fire lizards, and Tolly dove down to perch on his outstretched forearm.

 _Show them a bit of flying, Path, before you go to Bitra,_ Mirrim suggested. _Let them see what they have to look forward to._

Path leaped off the ledge. There was a yelp from Rolena, an exclamation of delight from Jacin, and a soft exhalation from Lanner as Path caught a wind current and soared out above the ocean. Mirrim inhaled the briny air, and felt her heart lift with the thrill of flight that never grew stale.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of silver.

Thread was falling, out of sequence: falling high, but inexorably descending toward the fleet of fishing boats.

“Bespeak Ramoth!” Mirrim shouted, grabbing firestone out of her packs and shoving it at Path.

 _Thread falls at Red Rock!_ Path called out, even as she crunched up the black rock. _Thread falls at Red Rock!_

“The boats!” Rolena cried. “My father – my brothers!”

“I don’t have time to let you off.” Mirrim thrust more firestone into Path's open mouth. “Either we all fight Thread, or none of us do.”

“That’s my family out there!” Rolena said instantly. “Of course we protect them!”

“It’s my family too,” said Jacin.

“We fight,” said Lanner.

“Hold on!” Mirrim pressed herself against Path’s neck. “Get low!”

Path darted toward the lowest Thread patch. Mirrim heard yelps and screams as the force knocked the candidates backward and into each other. Flame exploded from Path’s mouth in a burst of heat and phosphine stench.

Before Mirrim could even see if Path had gotten it all, her dragon twisted her neck around and flamed a clump of Thread directly overhead. Mirrim was showered with hot ash. More screams. Mirrim shut them out. She couldn’t afford to focus on anything but Thread.

Two patches fell nearby, each close enough to burn Path's wings to the bone. Path folded her wings tight into her body and dropped like a falling rock. Her tail dimpled the ocean surface before she extended her wings, shot forward with her tail skimming the waves, then rose, spun around, and flamed first the left patch, then the right.

The men in the boats were rowing frantically for shore, but were barely moving compared to the speed of the falling Thread.

Mirrim lost track of each individual patch, Path was moving so fast, darting up and down, dodging Thread and then whipping back around to sear it to ash. But she couldn’t fight the entire Fall by herself. Where were the dragons from Benden?

Worse, Path was slowing. She rarely carried so much weight, and never into a Threadfall.

“Over there!” Mirrim shouted. While Path had spun to flame a lone Thread behind her, a flurry had begun to descend toward two boats.

Linked with Path, Mirrim cried out as acid flicked Path’s left wingtip. She went into cold _between_ , to let the Thread freeze and break into dust before it could eat into the membrane. Suspended in black nothingness, Mirrim winced at the pain she had sensed and at the guilt she felt for getting Path into this situation. Path had never been scored before.

Path emerged in the bright light of day. In the three heartbeats she’d been between, the Thread flurry nearing the boats had been joined by two more. Path could never get it all – not without getting herself and her riders badly scored, perhaps killed.

In a calm, cool corner of Mirrim’s mind, she thought, _This is what it means to be a dragonrider._

Her mental command felt like a whisper. _Go._

Path arrowed toward the falling Thread. The cold wind tore at Mirrim’s face, yanking back the skin around her eyes and mouth.

“Cover your faces!” Mirrim shielded her own with her forearms.

Blind, she sensed only movement, bursts of heat, the raw stench of phosphine clogging her nose and souring her mouth, and Path’s singleminded determination to burn it all.

Burning pain lashed across Mirrim’s arms, her back, her shoulders, crawling and burrowing across her neck and into her throat. A scream burst from her throat without her volition. Then she was _between_ , tearing at the Threads, feeling them squirming under her fingers for a horrible instant before they hardened, became brittle, and crumbled away.

Mirrim felt the pain, but only distantly. The thought came to her mind without any emotion attached: _Multiple scores. Score to the throat. This is how riders die._

Then emotion rushed in. _Path! Are you hurt?_

 _Don't worry about me._ Path sent her feelings of peace, of warmth, of safety and hope.

They emerged from _between_ , into a sky full of swooping, diving, flaming dragons.

 _Mnementh says to go to the healers_. Path’s thoughts were now backed by creeping fear.

Automatically, Mirrim sent her reassurance and calm. She tried to picture Benden Weyr, but she was distracted by pain, by worry about Path and the candidates, by –

Path went _between_. She emerged into a gray, pearly dawn, and began to spiral down through the cool morning air.

Mirrim could feel her own thoughts slowed and dulled by shock. But she was sure that Red Rock Hold and Benden Weyr were in the same time, so why had they gone from mid day to morning…?

Mirrim craned her neck to see behind her, wincing. All three candidates were scored and bleeding. Rolena was sobbing hysterically, Jacin had his head still hidden in his arms, and Lanner was slumped, unconscious or dead.

Path landed. It took Mirrim a moment to recognize the strange buildings and courtyard as Harper Hall.

“I said Benden.”

_The Masterhealer is here._

Her fire lizards materialized in the air above them, squeaking frantically. More fire lizards joined them. People were running out of the buildings. Mirrim felt herself beginning to black out. Path’s emotions flared from fear to terror.

“Please don’t panic, Path,” whispered Mirrim, and passed out.

  


She awoke to the sound of music. Menolly was sitting by the bed, humming to herself. Her fire lizards were perched around her and the room, humming along.

_Path!_

_I am here_ , Path said soothingly.

The fire lizards stopped humming and squeaked. Menolly looked down. “Mirrim, you’re awake!”

Mirrim tried to reply, but it came out in an incomprehensible croak.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Menolly fetched a cup. Mirrim tried to sit up, and couldn’t. Then she tried to hold the cup, and couldn’t do that either.

“I’m floating,” she mumbled. “How bad…”

“We dosed you with fellis, for the pain,” Menolly replied. “You’ll be all right. Path had some scores, but nothing serious. Your candidates all survived. Now go back to sleep. Master Oldive said you need to rest.”

Mirrim knew there was something else, something important… “The Hatching!”

Menolly laughed. “It hasn’t happened yet. Will you go back to sleep if I promise to wake you up for it?”

Mirrim nodded, and fell back asleep.

  


She felt much more alert the next time she woke. No one was in the room, other than her fire lizards and Menolly’s blue Uncle, who chirruped at her, then blinked _between_.

She hauled herself to a sitting position, and patted her own body. There were bandages everywhere, and numbness beneath them, but everything seemed to move properly, and that was the important thing. She was about to look for clothing when Menolly came in, followed by, to Mirrim’s surprise, Rolena. The green candidate had bandages around both forearms, but otherwise seemed unhurt.

“Why aren’t you at Benden?” Mirrim asked. “Surely they could have spared _one_ dragon to take you there…”

Rolena shot Mirrim a peculiarly guilty look, then burst out, “I decided not to stand at the Hatching.”

“What?” Mirrim exclaimed. “Whyever not? I’m certain you’d Impress.”

“That Thread fight was the most horrible moment of my entire life!” Rolena burst out. “I was terrified. And I spewed. I never want to ride a dragon again.”

“Really?” Mirrim couldn’t imagine that. “But that Fall was unusual. We were fighting by ourselves. Normally you’d be in a wing, with eleven other dragons to help cover you. And you cover them. The best riders hardly ever get scored.”

“Ugh!” said Rolena. “I never want to get scored again, at all. Anyway, I like it _here_. There’s music all the time, and meat instead of that everlasting fish. And it’s so big! There’s so many people, and so many rooms. I’m kept busy looking after one building alone.”

“You’re looking after a building?” Mirrim echoed, perplexed.

Rolena beamed at her. “Yes, I actually came here to thank you. I’ve become Silvina’s apprentice. Some day I’ll be Headwoman of Harper Hall! It’s better than anything I ever dreamed of.”

Mirrim was too baffled to reply, but luckily Rolena continued without a break. “I have to be off. My work doesn’t do itself. But I’ll check in every day to make sure you have everything you need. You do, don’t you?”

Glancing around the room, Mirrim saw that it was spotlessly clean and appointed with a cabinet of perfectly organized medical supplies. On a table beside her bed, in easy reach even if she was lying down, was a cup of water, a covered plate, a napkin, and a bell.

“It’s perfect.” Honesty forced Mirrim to add, “You're even more efficient than I was, when I helped Manora at Benden. You’ll be a wonderful Headwoman.”

Rolena smiled, and whisked herself out.

Menolly sat down in the chair by the bed. “I know. I was disappointed, too. After all, she’s the one I sent you all the way to Red Rock Sea Hold to find…”

Mirrim blinked. “She was?”

“Well, of course. She reminded me of you.”

“I thought Lanner was the girl you found.” Mirrim replayed her conversation with Lanner in her mind. Hadn’t Lanner claimed that Menolly had said a dragonrider would come specifically for her? “What did you tell them at Red Rock, about the Search?”

“I didn’t want her to be disappointed, in case you didn’t take her. So I only told them all that every Hold should be Searched, and I’d try to get Bender Weyr to send someone.” Menolly frowned. “Wait, you found Lanner at Red Rock Sea Hold? I thought she was from somewhere else. She doesn’t look or sound at all like the rest of the people at Red Rock.’

Mirrim groaned to herself. Now that Menolly had pointed it out, it was obvious. Who was Lanner, anyway? “Is she at Benden?”

Menolly nodded. “Jacin went there the same day you came, but Master Oldive only released Lanner yesterday. She got knocked out or passed out during the flight, and her face was left unprotected. I’m afraid she’ll be badly scarred.”

 _Ramoth’s eggs will hatch soon_ , said Path. _You must hurry._

"Path says the eggs are hatching!" Mirrim swung her feet over the edge of the bed, then dizzily clutched at the mattress.

Menolly jumped up. “I’ll help you get dressed.”

She helped Mirrim into light, loose clothing that wouldn’t rub too much over her scores. Then she looked down at her own plain clothes and shrugged. "At least I have my gitar."

They went out to the courtyard as fast as Mirrim could walk. Menolly held her by the elbow till they were halfway there, and then Mirrim got her balance back and could walk by herself.

She was dismayed to see the scores on Path’s beautiful hide – her agile Path, who had never been scored before.

 _Everyone is saying I’m the fastest green on Pern_ , Path sent smugly. _Any other dragon would have been killed._

That cheered Mirrim. Of course Path was the fastest green on Pern! But it was nice to have others acknowledge it.

They strapped in, and Path took them _between_. She emerged inside the Hatching Ground, where most of the spectators and all the candidates were already gathered. Menolly and Mirrim gingerly walked across the hot sands. They hastily squeezed into a tier mostly filled with elegantly dressed women, who looked askance at their plain, rumpled clothing.

Great and golden, Ramoth loomed above the shining queen egg and the ten girls who stood around it. The humming of dragons and their natural musky scent filled the heated air. Most of the eggs were already rocking.

Mirrim spared a quick glance for the striking girl from Benden Hold, but otherwise paid little heed to the girls around the queen egg. She was looking for _her_ candidates.

Jacin’s brown skin made him easy to spot in the mass of white-clad, mostly lighter-skinned boys. Like Rolena, his forearms were bandaged. Lanner stood beside him, half a head taller than most of the boys. Her head had been shaved, and the left side of her head, her left cheek, and her forehead were heavily bandaged. To Mirrim’s surprise, another girl stood beside Lanner, with the boys. The girl had dark tilted eyes, curly black hair, and, almost alone among the tense candidates, a smile. Mirrim had never seen her before.

The first egg cracked, startlingly loud. Most of the candidates jumped. To Mirrim's delight, the egg was near her candidates. Lanner leaned so close into it that she lost her balance and nearly fell on top of it. Jacin grabbed her elbow, steadying her.

While everyone was staring at the cracked egg, another egg shattered, releasing a little green dragonet. While the Holder ladies murmured in disappointment – they’d hoped for the traditional good omen, a bronze – Mirrim nudged Menolly, grinning. As far as she was concerned, that green was the best omen of all.

Some boys stepped toward her, but others stepped away. Greens were the most common color in any hatching, and carried neither the prestige and leadership opportunities of the bronzes and browns, nor the comparative rarity of the blues. Mirrim mentally noted the faces of the boys edging away, so she could be pleased if it happened that they didn’t Impress at all. Anyone who rejected any dragon was a fool who didn’t deserve one.

The little green staggered forward, seeming to look around hopefully. Jacin came up to her, but she continued to blunder along. He jumped aside just in time – a pre-Impressed dragonet could inflict terrible wounds in ignorance.

The green continued to wander, glancing at but bypassing the two girls, and then stopped before a scrawny, redheaded boy. The boy’s thin face lit with joy, and dropped to his knees beside her. “She says her name is Corith!”

Mirrim sighed with happiness, remembering the best moment of her life, when a little dragon had enveloped her with love and spoken into her mind, telling Mirrim her name.

Eggs began to break open all around, sending the candidates scattering in all directions, though, oddly, the first egg to crack stayed intact. Jacin and the curly-haired girl, now grining wildly, headed off in opposite directions, each heading for a different green fledgling.

Lanner stayed where she was, near the cracked egg. Mirrim didn’t blame her for not wanting to move – the numbweed on her own Threadscores were beginning to wear off, making them itch and burn – but she hoped it wouldn’t inhibit Lanner’s ability to Impress. Surely not. Path had selected her. Unlike Rolena, whom Mirrim ruefully realized she had neglected to consult Path about.

_Path? What did you think of Rolena?_

Path sent her a mental shrug. _You liked her. So I thought, maybe._

Jacin’s voice rose up, bringing Mirrim’s attention to the other side of the Hatching Ground. “He says his name is Keth!”

He?

Jacin was kneeling on the hot sands. Tears of joy ran down his face and dripped on to the folded wings of his little brown dragon.

“Look, look!” Menolly nudged her unnecessarily. “Jacin got a brown!”

Mirrim was pleased, though slightly perplexed. She’d been looking for green riders… but then again, Jacin was a boy. And now that she thought of it, Jacin’s calm, sweet personality might be better-suited to a brown than a green.

The curly-haired girl was still pursuing green dragonets across the grounds. No longer smiling, she was starting to look worried. She approached a green, who flapped its damp wings at her as if to ward her off, and headed straight for a plump boy. The boy and dragonet gazed into each other’s eyes, and Impression was made.

The curly-haired girl frowned, then set off to approach another green. Though Mirrim had no idea who she was, she was determined and a girl, and that was enough for Mirrim. She began to cheer the girl on, muttering, “Go on!” and “You can do it!”

The entire Hatching Ground erupted in cheers. Mirrim jumped. The queen egg had finally burst open. The little dragon stepped out daintily, glowing gold.

As if she’d already made up her mind in the shell, she walked straight toward the Benden girl D’wer had said wouldn’t Impress. The girl reached out and scratched her eye ridges. Mirrim could recall as if it was yesterday how soft Path’s had been when she had first hatched.

“Her name is Beleth,” the girl whispered. “Oh, she’s beautiful!”

Mirrim suddenly remembered Lanner. To her disappointment, the tall girl was still standing at the cracked egg, which was the only one on the ground to have not yet hatched. Mirrim suspected that there was something wrong with it.

Further, she suspected that there was something wrong with Lanner. There were no dragonets in her vicinity, and she hadn’t moved since the hatching had started. Either she was foolishly pinning all her hopes on one probably-defective egg, or she had given up, or her injuries were making her feel too ill to make an effort. Mirrim suspected the last, since Lanner had not given the impression of either foolishness or weakness. In that case, Mirrim would argue for her to get a second chance at a later Hatching.

Confirming Mirrim's guess, Lanner squatted down and rested on her heels, arms folded loosely across her knees.

As always, the Hatching had gone by too quickly. There was only one dragonet left, an undersized green, and some candidates were already starting to leave. Mirrim was indeed pleased to see that the ones who had rejected the first green were among them. The tiny green wandered around the sands, creeling disconsolately, stumbling past the remaining boys.

The curly-haired girl came dashing up from the other side of the Ground. As she flew past Mirrim and Menolly, Mirrim heard her mutter, “Oh, no you don’t!”

She dropped down on her knees in front of the green – a dangerous move, even with such a small dragon – and seized its wedge-shaped head, forcing the dragonet to look into her eyes.

“Hey!” a boy exclaimed, but was drowned out by the girl’s exultant cry.

“Her name is Gilith!” And then, triumphantly, “I’m a dragonrider!”

“I like her,” said Mirrim. “Whoever she is.”

Except for Lanner, the candidates were all leaving the Ground. The successful ones, with their creeling dragonets, were escorted by blue riders. Green dragons and their riders were landing on the sands to take away the ones who had failed. The spectators too were getting up and leaving. To Mirrim’s annoyance, as the elegant ladies passed by, they huffily remarked about breaches of tradition and girls who didn't know their place.

“It’s a shame about Lanner,” Menolly said. “Think she’ll get to stand again?”

“She will if I have anything to say about it,” said Mirrim. “That would be terrible, if she was scarred for life, couldn’t Impress because of her wounds, and then—“

Mirrim broke off. Lanner was moving at last, straightening up and stepping toward the cracked egg.

“Ready now?” Lanner said, in her odd drawl. “Well then.”

She wedged her fingers into the crack and pulled, and looked surprised when nothing happened. Mirrim could have told her how deceptively hard dragon shells are. They shattered to release the dragonets, but otherwise, they could barely be broken with a hammer.

Lanner pulled harder. Muscles bunched in her arms, but the crack opened no further. Blood began to trickle down the edges of the crack.

Mirrim stood up. “I’ll stop her. I don’t think she wants to see whatever’s inside, anyway.”

Before Mirrim could start out of the stands, Lanner let go. Cocking her head, she repeated, “Well then.”

The egg shattered, and a dragon rolled out. It was perfectly formed, very much alive, and blue as a summer sky.

Lanner sat down cross-legged in front of it, ignoring the heat of the sands. The blue dragon laid his head in her lap. Smiling, she scratched his eye-ridges.

Mirrim stood gape-jawed, unable to believe what she had seen, until Menolly offered Mirrim her elbow. “Need a hand?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Mirrim and Menolly left the stands and approached Lanner, who sat peacefully stroking and crooning to her blue dragon.

“What’s his name?” Mirrim asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Stelath,” said Lanner. “His name is Stelath.”

Across the sands, Mirrim caught a glimpse of Lessa, staring at all four of them with a look fit to sear Thread.

Mirrim resisted the impulse to shout out to her, “I didn’t plan this to make trouble! I’m as surprised as you are!”

Instead, she said to Lanner, “I’m sorry about your face.”

Lanner shrugged. “Risk of being a dragonrider.”

“You’re not from Red Rock Sea Hold,” said Menolly.

“No,” Lanner said absently, all her attention on her dragon. “I’m a trader. Happened to be at Red Rock when you came. You said a Search dragon would come, so when the others left, I stayed. Figured it was my only chance.”

“Did you _mean_ to Impress a blue?” asked Mirrim.

“Oh, no.” Lanner looked up at Mirrim for the first time. Her pale eyes, like Lessa’s dark ones, were impossible to look away from. “I meant to Impress the queen. Figured I’d just stroll on over. But I caught Stelath's eye when I looked in the crack. So. Wouldn't want it any other way, now.”

Lanner coaxed Stelath out of her lap, then stood up. “He says he’s hungry. Where do I feed him?”

Mirrim looked in that direction, and saw Lessa and F’lar marching toward them. “Ah… The Weyrleaders will show you.”

She and Menolly beat a hasty retreat. “Normally I’d stay to protect her,” Mirrim began, just as Menolly said, “Normally I’d feel guilty, but…”

Menolly laughed. “I guess we’re agreed: Lanner can take care of herself.”

  


At the Hatching Feast, Menolly was called away from her seat beside Mirrim to play on her gitar. Mirrim listened for a while. Then she spotted D’wer working his way through what looked like an entire roast wherry, and walked up to stand by his side.

“Did you Search that girl who Impressed the green?” Mirrim asked.

He nodded. “Her name’s Chaya, from Bitra Hold. I thought about what you said, about not looking for girls with green rider qualities. So Trebeth and I looked.”

She had so much that she wanted to say to him, much of it contradictory, that she wasn’t sure where to start:

_”Thank you for making sure at least one girl Impressed a green.”_

_“I feel like an idiot that you found a green rider girl and I didn’t, after all the fuss I made about me being the only rider who could find one.”_

_“Thank you for letting me go to Red Rock Sea Hold.”_

_“Thank you for teaching me how to Search.”_

_“I now have no idea how Searching actually works.”_

She settled on, “The girl who got the queen was the one you and Trebeth thought wouldn’t Impress at all.”

D’wer poured himself more wine. “You know how Mastersmith Fandarel will decide that he wants to build something – say, a distance viewer – and he’ll try version after version, carefully recording everything he does, until he comes up with a method for building a device that does exactly what he wants it to do, and whenever he uses the same method to build another device, every device built that way will come out exactly the same?”

“Yes.”

“Searching isn’t like that.” D’wer took another bite of wherry.

Mirrim decided not to stay for the endless singing and drinking, and headed up to Path’s weyr. Path gave her a comforting nuzzle, and Mirrim stroked her silky hide.

The sound of footsteps made her look up. It was Menolly, with her gitar slung over her back, and a bottle of Benden red and two glasses in her hands.

“I could use some of that.” Mirrim took the bottle and poured the wine. “Actually, I could use all of it.”

A mischievous light shone in Menolly’s eyes. “Think of it this way, Mirrim: You and Path picked up three candidates. Not only did two of them Impress, one of them made history!”

Mirrim sighed. “Lanner picked herself up. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Other than being the first dragonrider to ever Search Red Rock Sea Hold?”

 _I like blue dragons_ , Path put in. _It will only be a Turn before Stelath will be full-grown and ready for mating flights._

 _I’m not sure what I think about that, Path_ , said Mirrim.

Menolly went on, “You wanted more female green riders, and now’s there another one.”

“I had nothing to do with that, either.”

“You asked D’wer to look, and he looked. You wanted more women riding fighting dragons, and now there’s two more.”

“Lessa was not happy about Lanner Impressing a blue. She looked like she wanted to shake me.”

Menolly shrugged. “She’ll get over it. Lanner and Stelath were obviously meant to be. And think how sad it would be if Jacin - J'cin - spent his whole life as a fisherman, instead of Impressing Keth.”

 _I also like brown dragons_ , Path added thoughtfully.

_Path, are you getting ready to rise?_

_Possibly._

Mirrim smiled to herself, but felt obliged to make one more complaint. “The candidate who started it all didn’t even make it to the Hatching.”

“You rescued Rolena from a boring, un-challenging, musically deprived, and fishy life in Red Rock Sea Hold. She’ll be much happier at Harper Hall. Trust me about that.”

“But…”

“Oh! Almost forgot!" Menolly's eyes shone with barely-suppressed laughter. "And also, you and Path were heroes and saved a lot of people’s lives. Now, what was your complaint again?”

“It didn’t turn out the way I planned it!” Mirrim burst out. “None of it! Not one single bit!” Then, replaying her own words in her mind, she laughed. “I guess that’s not that important. But I like my plans to go as planned.”

“Don’t we all.” Menolly settled in against Path’s side, and played a riff on her gitar. The tune was from a child’s song about a watch-wher who courts a dragon, but the words Menolly sang were different:

“Oh, Mirrim on the Search did ride,  
Proud and sure was she.  
Oh, Mirrim on the Search did ride,  
Proud and sure.  
Oh, Mirrim on the Search did ride  
For green rider girls for to take her side.  
Proud and sure, proud and sure, proud and sure was she!”

“Very funny.” Mirrim elbowed Menolly in the ribs. “But I _did_ find a dragonrider girl. And Path found a boy.”

Undeterred, Menolly went on singing, composing a verse for each of Mirrim’s candidates and Chaya too. Her fire lizards hummed along. When she got to the verse about fighting Thread over Red Rock Bay, Path’s warm sides vibrated as she too began to hum.

“To the sands came Mirrim’s boy and girls,  
Strong and brave, waiting.”

 _Strong and brave, waiting_. Path’s voice, more tuneful than Mirrim’s own, unexpectedly echoed the chorus.

“To the sands came Mirrim’s boy and girls  
Strong and brave.”

 _Strong and brave_.

“To the sands came Mirrim’s boy and girls  
To meet their dragons, bright as pearls.”

Giving in, Mirrim sang along with the final line, “Strong and brave, strong and brave, strong and brave were they!”

_Strong and brave, strong and brave, strong and brave were they!_


End file.
